At that moment, deep within the Forest of the Great Ones, thick fog embraced the massive trees. Between the twisted trunks and muddy paths, Christopher dashed like a ghost, his steps silent but swift, weaving through branches and instinctively avoiding natural pits.
His body was covered in a long black robe, its edges frayed from battles, and his purple scarf, which covered the rest of his face, fluttered behind him like a tail of smoke. His eyes were calm, shining beneath the shadow of the scarf, and his face was grim.
Christopher ran quickly, breathing calmly, and his mind thinking about the events.
During the three days he spent in the cave, he wasn't still. He went out more than once to retrieve his belongings from his tent on the plateau. The tools, and even the small journals in which he recorded his meditations. He had planned to leave the forest after recovering and when the Lux Trial began.
But what he didn't expect… was the appearance of the Temple.
"How? How did they find us?" A question repeated in his mind over and over as he jumped over a fallen trunk and made his way through the thick fog.
He was sure that everyone had been killed. He killed the leader himself, impossible for him to survive. And Melina… she killed the rest.
But, could there be a survivor?
One of the soldiers Melina killed? Did he pretend to be dead?
Christopher increased his speed as thoughts raged in his head. He felt a terrifying aura approaching from a very far distance, overpowering all other auras as if it was devouring everything around. He didn't need to see it to know…
The leader with the strange white hair.
"They're approaching fast…" Christopher muttered in a low voice as he quickly turned to glance behind him.
But at the moment he looked, a strange feeling overwhelmed him, a sensation he had never experienced before.
It was as if the air itself was alerting him, as if the air trembled.
Without thinking, he suddenly ducked his body.
Fshhh!
Two swords passed over him at deadly speed, one from the right and the other from the left, touching at a point that would have been his head if he hadn't ducked.
He almost stumbled from the surprise, but he jumped forward and rolled on the ground, then turned quickly, expecting another attack.
In front of his eyes stood two individuals.
Silent.
Carrying swords covered in fine gray threads writhing like smoky spirits.
One was thin, tall, with a face covered by a mask—half black and half white—and eyes without eyelids.
The other was relatively short, but his muscles were bulging, and his veins pulsed on his arms like glowing tattoos.
Christopher didn't move. He only looked at them calmly. Then took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and his eyes observed their slightest movements.
He knew the battle was inevitable.
The aura of the man with white hair was approaching like a storm, and if he didn't finish with these two quickly, he wouldn't get a second chance to escape.
"It must end quickly."
Christopher calmly drew his sword.
Shhhhk…
The sound of metal leaving its sheath came out like a melody of death, elegant and cold.
Christopher whispered coldly, without changing his tone: "Three minutes."
The short man stopped suddenly, as if someone hit him on the head with a frying pan.
He opened his eyes wide, then tilted his head to the side, as if trying to understand a complicated chemical equation.
He said in a sharp, loud voice:
"Three minutes?"
Then he turned to the tall man beside him and asked with terrifying seriousness:
"Brother, he said three minutes… what does he mean? Is that a threat? A challenge? Or... a lunch appointment?"
The tall one replied in a calm voice, but he was tapping on his sword with his finger as if playing a tune:
"Lunch? No, I don't think so. He didn't seem hungry. Maybe… he means three minutes to kill us?"
Then he suddenly looked at Christopher as if realizing his intent and screamed in a high-pitched voice like a eunuch:
"You! Will you kill us in three minutes?!"
Christopher did not reply. He only fixed his gaze on them and slightly bent in an attack stance.
The short one said, waving his sword: "He's ignoring us, that's disrespect! We must kill him slowly, very slowly! I'll start with his ear, then his eyebrow, then his left toenail! Yes, the left one!"
The tall one replied, raising his finger like a professor explaining a philosophical theory:
"No no, don't start with the ear, the ear is boring. Let's start... with the left eyebrow, then jump straight to the trachea! Variety is important! We are artists, my brother, not boring killers!"
The short one raised his eyebrow:
"Artists?"
The tall one nodded enthusiastically:
"Artists! Think about it, we don't kill... we paint bloody paintings!"
Then he turned to Christopher and screamed:
"You will be our next painting!"
The short one replied while waving his sword as if painting in the air:
"Yes yes! And we'll call it: The Three-Minute Purple Hunter!"
But at that moment, Christopher disappeared from his place.
He appeared behind the short man, silent as a shadow, and swung his sword with terrifying speed aiming for his neck.
Fwoosh!
But the short one suddenly ducked in an illogical way, as if collapsing to the ground like a flexible lump of flesh, and shouted:
"Ah! You almost killed me! Brother! He almost killed me!"
The tall man replied while charging at Christopher with illogical speed:
"And me? Me! Why doesn't he try to kill me first?! I'm taller! More handsome! Smarter!"
The sound of clashing swords echoed in the air.
Tanng!
Christopher blocked the attack with the edge of his sword and swiftly leaped backward, his eyes still coldly fixed on the brothers.
The short one, crawling on the ground, then jumped up and said:
"Brother! He's fast! Fast like the wind! No, like the wind that eats beans!"
The tall one replied, trying to deliver a side strike:
"The wind doesn't eat beans, you idiot!"
The short one screamed madly: "And how would you know? Have you ever tried being wind?!"
Christopher said nothing. He moved forward calmly amid their madness, then suddenly dashed.
Once again, he vanished from his place.
This time he appeared between the two, and a quick battle ensued, sharp as blades.
The short one tried to stab him from behind, but Christopher spun around and kicked him in the face, and the man let out a cry more like a small bark:
"Ow! That hurts!"
The tall man launched forward quickly and swung his sword at Christopher, who turned quickly, blocked the strike, and countered with the basic sword technique: the opening strike.
From his sword burst a terrifying sword aura that sliced the air like a whistle, targeting the man in front of him.
From the power of the blow, the tall man flew, smashing trees in his path. He stood among the trees holding his chest, the long wound extending from his shoulder to his waist, and he looked terrifying. He muttered while panting behind the mask, and his aura began to change and grow stronger.
"Blood? Brother, we must kill him! He hurt me!" he screamed, raising his sword toward Christopher.
Christopher frowned as he looked at him, sensing something strange in the air.
Yes, he must die.
Christopher heard the voice of the short man, turned and found him pointing his sword at him, his aura rising with terrifying force.
The brothers whispered calmly and in complete harmony:
"Immortal Twin Sword Technique."
Their swords transformed in perfect sync into gray color, and the aura of their swords began to affect their surroundings with terrifying force.
Christopher frowned and focused his mana into his black ring. His aura suddenly surged like a storm and began clashing violently with the brothers' gray auras, as if the world split between darkness and smoky gray clouds.
The ground beneath them began to crack, and the surrounding trees emitted strange groans from the pressure.
The brothers screamed together, one behind Christopher and the other in front:
"Synchronized Slash!"
They charged in a moment, as if their bodies merged with the wind, their swords moving as one, targeting Christopher's chest and back with deadly precision.
But Christopher did not retreat.
In a moment, he moved.
"Earth Shadow Steps!"
His shadow exploded beneath his feet like a flash, and he disappeared from his place to appear directly behind the short one, his sword covered in thick black aura.
"World Shadow Sword."
Christopher swung his sword, and from it burst dark mana, swirling like a vortex and hitting him from behind, shattering their harmony.
The short one shouted: "Brother! Save me!"
But it was too late.
Christopher's sword shot like lightning and struck the short one's back with a fatal blow. The blade hit his body, cutting him in two with a terrifying bloody slash. Blood splattered on the ground and in the air, and the gray aura that surrounded him shattered like a bursting bubble.
The short man screamed a strange sound, blood gushing from his deep wound, but he didn't fall immediately. Instead, he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, looking at his tall brother with wide eyes.